On the opening night of Barry Lewis’ Monsters exhibition 13 out of 40 pieces sold, which is pretty impressive. Sadly all the ones my hubla fell in love with went within moments, but I managed to get a red dot onto a rather lovely one of a pegasus, very similar to the horse of spoons, but with an elegant pair of fish-knife wings. I can’t wait till the end of Feb when I can take it home.

The exhibition gained loads of media attention, partly, I’d like to think, due to my press releases. I picked up a copy the Evening Post and found that one of the journalists had used paragraphs from my release word for word. Nice to know I’m making life so easy for them, but odd to see my words credited to someone else…

A selection of my words are also currently taking part in an art and poetry exhibition called Exploding Poetry. It’s being held at Bank Street Arts Centre, and is on the topic of women and warfare. I wrote short piece called Not War, Nor Peace, inspired by my time in Israel, and it got accepted! Love it when that happens – it almost makes all the rejections worthwhile.

Sabre tooth tiger by Barry Lewis

Last night’s preview of Barry Lewis’ Monsters exhibition was the most bubbling I’ve been to for a long while. I barely got to say hello to Barry as folks crowded round him, eager to meet the great creator of so many magical beasts. I’d seen countless photos of his work, but never come face to face with the animals until the event, and I was intrigued by how many I fell deeply in love with. No wonder red dots were springing up all over the room.

Sadly, Horse of Spoons, sold early on, as did my hubla’s favourite, Codzilla, a huge glimmering fishhead made of fish knives and other reclaimed materials.

There’s something about the combined elegance and unpretentiousness of the scultures that really appeals to all kinds of people, including those, like my hubla, who occasionally complain about not getting art. There’s a playfulness to the whole collection that’s hugely appealing, as people crowded round, identifying old coffee pots, forks, engine parts and gas canisters. It was like a version of Where’s Wally for grown ups.

The menagerie was populated by enough creatures to put Bristol Zoo to shame, with seagulls hovering overhead, gigantic scorpions, spiders and dragonflies, lobster, crabs and vast coppery fish, an alligator with a body woven from bike tyres, as well as more abstract works such as a heart made from spoons and a satellite dish - ideal for Valentine’s Day.

The one serious undercurrent running throughout is the message of reclaiming, restoring and recycling, the three R’s of our era. In taking other people’s rubbish and transforming it into art, Barry works magic on several levels. The animal-heads mounted on plaques  made from old table tops take this a step further, by poking fun at those who still believe hunting is a good, honourable hobby.

I’d rather have a sabre-tooth tiger made from cutlery on my wall than the head of a dehydrated, stuff dead animal any day, and the hordes of people at the Grant Bradley Gallery yesterday seemed to agree.

Westbourne Angels © Nic Dartnell

One of the more recent developments to my career path has been the introduction of a few PR skills, writing press releases and features to promote artists who come to me via the Grant Bradley Gallery in Bedminster, Bristol.

I love this kind of work because it means getting to chat with interesting creative folk and take a look at their paintings, photography, sculptures, or whatever else they pour their thoughts and feelings into. It’s wonderful to have the opportunity to promote things I’m genuinely moved by.

One of my recent clients is Nic Dartnell. He’s a fascinating character, part rock star part painter and photographer. His first big success came way back in the 1970s when he was just 18 years old and had the audacity to send a piece of artwork to supergroup-to-be Emerson, Lake & Palmer. I admire that kind of behaviour - taking a chance on your work because you believe in it!

He was right to, because the band loved it and used it as the cover of their debut album. You can still see that eerie bird/face in record stores and billboards all over the world

Since then he’s produced a series of intricate images of individual African and Asian children, made a series of five paintings for a book about Jimmy Hendrix, and developed his studies of Navajo art, which culminated in the creation of a full sized sand painting on the floor of the Grant Bradley Gallery in 2008. He approaches his work without a shred of self-doubt, eager to attempt anything that moves him.

The exhibition I’ve been helping him to promote is all about the exuberance of the carnival. It’s an examination of how this kind of environment allows us to let loose and become something other than our everyday selves - a sort of magical metamorphosis.

Nic used video footage to film crowds of revellers and performers at the Notting Hill Carnival, and then picked out images of people that he felt demonstrated this mood. The chosen scenes are now a series of lustrous oil paintings that will be on show at the Grant Bradley Gallery from September 3rd to October 3rd 2009.

I can’t wait for the preview on Friday September 4th. Previews at the Grant Bradley are always good fun, but having been so involved in this exhibition will make it all the more exciting. It’s open to the public, giving gallery visitors an opportunity to meet the artist and view his work while listening to live jazz and soul music by new Bristol talent Bashema, who I’m looking forward to hearing. She performed at Glastonbury 2009 and has her own show on Bristol Community Radio, so it should be a good night.

© Gavin Spencer

Between swine flu and the recession, it’s nice to have something positive in the news, and Antony Gormley’s plinth is doing a grand job.

When I first heard about the idea I was a bit bemused. Antony Gormley is one of the UK’s most exciting sculptors, best known for his immense Angel of the North, so when I heard he’d been commissioned to fill Trafalgar Square’s strangely empty fourth plinth, I was filled with anticipation.

Then he revealed that what he would be doing was allowing 2,400 people an hour each to do whatever they chose on the plinth in the guise of being part of a living sculpture.

To be honest, at first it seemed like a bit of a cop-out, but now it’s actually happening I’ve been completely converted to the idea.

It’s a chance for any one of us to get up there, with a lottery system choosing registered hopefuls at random. Once in place you can do whatever you choose, and the performances, viewed by those in the square and those watching it on the internet and TV at home, have been incredibly varied.

One person held up a sign asking “But is it art”, a deluge of poets have been reading out their work. A writer I know will be up there on Monday reading out important words chosen by anyone who responded to his calls for submission.

It’s a fascinating blend of the intriguing, the pretentious and the banal, but it’s all rather magical. Celebs are no more likely to be chosen than unknowns, lecturers no more than labourers. It’s a completely level playing field, where everyone has a chance to stand in front of the world’s media, look down on the lions and say their piece.

But it also feels like a huge responsibility. What would you do with an hour’s worth of that kind of attention? What plight would you draw attention to? What brave idea would you voice? What beautiful lines of poetry or prose would you bring forth? An hour is a long time in the spotlight if you’re not used to it, and that hour will live on forever online, so you’d want to get it right.

No pressure then.